Chapter Three
Patience, Pedigree and Performance
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Janelle Forrest POV

I strode through the hallways, my heels clicking against the linoleum floor. I loved that sound, it turned heads, made people search for the noise. And then they would see me. Tall, tanned and gorgeous. I had spent ages in the sun during the break, knowing that Blake would go crazy when he saw his blonde haired, amethyst eyed girl turn into an exotic, sun-kissed goddess. And I could tell, by the way his eyes widened when he saw me, and the way he shivered when I touched him, that he still wanted me. I smiled at one of the first years who was staring my way, flashing my pearly whites. Who wouldn't want me?

"Janelle?" Someone said hesitantly behind me. I slowed my walk and turned. Behind me, my group of followers stood a little back. They knew not to stand too close to me while I was walking, otherwise I might be lost in the crowd. Unacceptable. One of them stepped forward, Mary or Martha or Margaret, I couldn't remember.

"Yes?" My voice purred. I had worked a lot on my vocal cords with Phillip during the break, getting my voice to become low and husky just like a sultry singer's should be. The lessons had worked out to be quite productive as well as the extra classes I scheduled with him at nights...

"I was wondering if I could go say hello to my cousin? It's his first year here and he might be welcome to a friendly face." She smiled tentatively. Cute face, but cute only gets you so far.

"You don't have to ask me permission!" I smirked. "I'm not your mother. Ugh."

The girl flushed pink and hurried away. I watched her go in the direction of the first year lockers and my eyes rested on the new girl, that petite blonde Greg had set his eyes on. She was rummaging through her locker, chattering to a girl next to her. I studied the friend. She looked much too young to be in college, even smaller than the blonde. Her black hair was messily cut and hung over her face. She was wearing loose jeans and a navy hooded jacket, as well as scuffed and frayed Nikes that were probably once white. No, this wouldn't do. A potential date of Greg's could NOT befriend such a messy little girl.

I began to make my way over there but was interrupted when someone called my name. I recognised the deep tone instantly. Ah, Blake. He was already chasing after me. I turned and watched him stride toward me. I loved his tall, limber figure and his mysterious grey eyes. They were so intense and you always knew he was giving the upmost attention. I bit my lips to redden them and pursed them as he stopped in front of me, lifting a hand to run down his arm. But he stepped away, making me look like an idiot with my hand in the air. I glared at him and ran my fingers through my hair, lightly fluffing it up for more volume, pretending that this was what I'd intended on doing the whole time.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said quietly, glancing back at my troupe. "Without the extra ears."

I frowned. "But first class is starting soon and I have a task to do," I gestured towards the two first years. The dark haired one looked up at me as I pointed and her eyes narrowed. I turned up my nose at her and looked back at Blake. He kept his eyes on the two girls for a moment longer and then shook his head.

"We need to talk now."

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Leah Fox
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Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone pointing at me so I looked up. I saw two of the people I'd seen in the big group yesterday, the girl who'd been hanging off this guy's arm like an accessory. They were both looking at me but with different expressions. The oak-brown eyes of the blonde were studying me with disapproval. I glared at her, which she returned before looking back at the guy. I turned my attention to him, and was taken aback at his sculpted appearance. Jutting cheekbones, assessing storm-grey eyes, perfectly formed lips. His eyes wandered over me but, unlike with his girl, I could see nothing of his reaction to me. He returned his attention to the blonde and I felt strangely bereft.

"...and so I never really passed beginners level for ballet because I was always out of the country, travelling with my parents. And as for singing and acting, well they shouldn't be too hard to pick up. Should they?" Haezel asked me. I'd forgotten what had started this conversation in the first place.

"I don't know about acting but singing, or whatever instrument you feel like choosing, won't be so easy to 'pick up'. You have to learn notes, rhythm and how to USE you instrument." I tore my eyes away from the couple as the guy took her hand and pulled her along beside him, entering one of the study rooms. Haezel was eyeing me worriedly. "You'll do fine," I assured her. "We're first years; they can't expect us to be brilliant at these subjects."